


Playing Doctor

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Miranda [4]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archer, Trip, and Malcolm do not have a good First Contact experience. Luckily Miranda is there to tend their injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Archer didn't want to admit it, but every step was agony. It wasn't just the sharp, fiery pain in his side; it was also the idea that every step could be doing more and more damage. When he finally saw the shuttlepod over the ridge, his relief was so great that his muscles decided it was just time to quit working early, and he stumbled heavily against Trip.

Misinterpreting the movement somewhat, the engineer tightened his grip on the Captain and encouraged him, "Just a little further, sir. The pod's right over there." Archer didn't have the energy to correct him. Or even to point out that he could see the pod just fine, thanks, he didn't get stabbed in the _eye_.

He managed to climb through the hatch mostly by himself, but the action about did him in and he sat down on the floor a little harder than he'd intended. Trip, Malcolm, and Miranda followed swiftly after, pulling the door shut tightly on the off chance some of the villagers decided to track them this far.

"Another successful First Contact," Trip noted sardonically, leaning back against the wall beside Jon.

"Let's just get out of here before the next village hears and wants to 'welcome' us, too," Archer suggested, wincing as he tried to sit up more.

"Sorry, sir," Malcolm countered from the pilot's seat. "There's another one of those ion storms approaching. We won't be able to take off until it passes."

Archer sighed, just a little bit, and tried to resign himself to waiting a few more hours before receiving lovely things like painkillers and sedatives. "We should probably take a look at that now, sir," Malcolm continued, noticing the grimace of pain that crossed the Captain's face.

"I'm sure Phlox will be able to—"

"That'll be hours from now, Captain," Trip interrupted, already fetching the medkit from the back of the pod. "We could at least clean it and put a bandage on it or something."

Archer didn't like being fussed over but he wasn't exactly in a position to prevent it, captain or not. "How about you guys? Are you okay?" he asked, trying to distract them.

"Nothing serious."

"I'm fine, sir."

Miranda said nothing.

Archer rolled his eyes. There was a time for stoicism, and there was a time for practical assessments of injuries. Some of his officers had a little trouble telling the difference, it seemed. Possibly including himself, but he was the Captain, so he didn't count. "Come on, guys," he insisted, giving Malcolm and Trip sharp looks. "Those villagers weren't playing around. I know you must have taken some knocks."

"Well..." Trip conceded, "I got whacked in the head pretty good by one of those stick things." He rubbed the tender spot and winced a bit.

"Definitely a few cuts and bruises, sir," Malcolm allowed. Miranda sat at his feet, hands twitching with the urge to take care of him.

"Well, if that's—" Archer began.

"I think I twisted my ankle a bit," added Trip, stretching out one foot and flexing it experimentally.

"Probably a couple loose teeth," Malcolm admitted grimly. He loathed dental work.

"Okay—" Archer cut in.

"My arms are all itchy, too," Trip continued, heedless. "You know, I might be allergic to that fur they were wearing."

"Can you believe, one of them _bit_ me," Malcolm pointed out, examining the crescent-shaped wound on his hand.

"Guys!" Archer snapped. "I'm the one with a spear point wedged in my ribcage, could you cut the whining down a little?" He decided his time for stoicism had come to an end.

"Sorry, sir," Malcolm replied immediately.

"Well, you _asked_ ," Trip retorted defensively.

"Come on, let's take a look," Malcolm repeated, this time crouching on the floor beside the Captain.

Getting his arm out of his uniform was excruciating, the kind of trial that really made you wonder if clothing like jumpsuits and vests had been designed by a species far more flexible than humans. At least the blue undershirt they could just hitch up in order to see the wound.

"D—n," breathed Trip shakily.

"Hmm, not as bad as I thought it would be," commented Malcolm speculatively.

"Well, which is it?" Archer asked them sharply, as he couldn't possibly maneuver to see it himself.

Malcolm and Trip made eye contact. "I think we'd better try to remove the spear point, sir," Malcolm finally suggested.

Archer didn't like the sound of that. " _I_ think I'd like a second opinion," he decided peevishly.

"Alright," Malcolm agreed. "I also think you should have been more aggressive with the village leader." Archer stared at him. Was he trying to be _funny_? "Sir?" Malcolm prompted with concern. "Are you feeling faint?"

Archer swiveled to his Chief Engineer. "Trip?" he demanded expectantly, deciding to ignore Malcolm.

"They _do_ seem to value strength and aggression, sir," Trip admitted. "I know you like the friendly approach, but some people—"

"About the _spear point_ ," Archer clarified. Because apparently his officers needed clarification about things like that.

"I'm an engineer, not a doctor," Trip demurred.

"It's not in very deep," Malcolm continued, pressing his case, "and it's just holding the wound open. You'll lose more blood if it stays in." Archer hadn't been aware of the warm stickiness dripping down his side until Malcolm mentioned it, but of course then it felt like a gushing river.

"Um, well, maybe you're right," he decided with a resigned exhale. "Are there any forceps in the medkit?"

"Yup, sterilized and ready to go," Trip answered, holding up a sealed package. "Do you, um, do you want me to do it, sir?" he asked timidly.

Archer appreciated the offer, especially as he knew how Trip was about blood. But having his nurse vomit or pass out halfway through the procedure didn't really sound like a good idea. He countered gently, "I was thinking maybe Malcolm should, since you got hit in the head and all..."

"Oh, right," Trip agreed, barely able to conceal his relief.

"Actually, sir," Malcolm replied, "I was thinking Miranda should do it."

Both Archer and Trip blinked at him. Then they flicked their gazes towards the petite blond, who was fluttering around Malcolm desperate to attend to _his_ injuries, or possibly just pet him. She appeared to be ignoring the entire conversation.

"Miranda has a great deal of experience with this sort of thing, after all," Malcolm assured them.

Well, they couldn't deny _that_ , at least. "Okay," Archer sighed, feeling as though he were giving himself up to his fate. "Let's just get on with it."

After a few moments of awkward shuffling Archer was lying on his side on the shuttlepod's floor, with Miranda behind him and a light Trip had rigged up shining brightly down on the injury. Shortly after getting an even better look at the wound Trip had declared his intention to attempt to contact _Enterprise_ and tried to move to the other end of the pod.

"Hang on," Malcolm balked, grabbing his arm. "You have to stay here. You'll have to help me hold him."

"Hold him?" Trip repeated.

"Hold me?" Archer said at the same time.

"Might sting a bit," Malcolm understated considerably. "You should hold his legs."

"You know, on second thought maybe this could wait—" Archer began.

"No!" Miranda told him crossly. Out of the corner of his eye Archer could just see her wiggling her fingers in the sterile gloves from the medkit, frowning at him with a distinctly peeved expression. "Archer, Tucker, _Malcolm_."

"What'd you do, tell her she can't tend to _you_ until the rest of us are taken care of?" Archer asked, trying to sound mildly annoyed and not generally freaked out.

"Exactly, sir," Malcolm replied smoothly. "And the longer you make her wait..."

"I don't think she'll have much to do on _me_ ," Trip insisted from around Jon's knees.

"I don't know..." Malcolm answered thoughtfully as Miranda opened the forceps. "You've got that knot on your head. She might have to perform brain surgery to reduce the swelling."

"Really?" Miranda asked, with a suspicious amount of enthusiasm. Trip looked a little pale at the thought.

"I really think we could probably wait—" Archer tried again.

Malcolm grabbed his shoulder to keep him from attempting to sit up. "Really, sir, you're losing a lot of blood," he repeated in a more serious tone. "It'll only take a moment."

Archer shook him off. "Look, just put some bandages on it the way it is, Phlox can take care of it when we get back to the ship. It's not like I'm going to be running a marathon before then or anything."

Malcolm glanced at Trip, then back at Archer. He shrugged in acquiescence. "Well, if that's what you really want, sir," he agreed dubiously. Archer relaxed for the first time since—well, probably since he'd gotten speared in the first place. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, I think you're taking this quite well," Malcolm added, patting the Captain on the shoulder.

"Um, well, thanks—" Archer began—then Malcolm grabbed his shoulder, Trip threw himself over Archer's legs, and Miranda inserted the forceps in a coordinated attack.

"F—K!" the Captain shouted, in a rather undignified manner. It was more a reaction to the burning agony in his side, but after Miranda had triumphantly pulled out the spear point and Malcolm and Trip felt it was safe to release him, Archer applied his anger to them instead.

"I should bust both of you back to crewmen," he growled, as Miranda studiously cleaned the wound and bandaged it up. "Didn't I specifically tell you _not_ to do that?!"

"Well, you'd lost a lot of blood, sir," Malcolm pointed out, once again.

"You probably weren't thinkin' straight," Trip agreed, a little too cheerfully.

Archer continued to glare at them, realizing that they were probably right but nowhere _near_ ready to let them know this. Maybe, just maybe, his side hurt a little less now, though, and he could enjoy that at least. Miranda helped him sit back up and he felt a little lightheaded—the lower half of his uniform was getting stiff, with dried blood he supposed... Maybe Malcolm _had_ been on to something there.

Miranda reached up and patted Archer smartly on the head. "Good boy," she told him approvingly, and Trip smothered a smirk in his hand as Archer rolled his eyes. The Captain was the one smirking, however, when Miranda turned her laser-beam gaze on the engineer and announced, "You're next!"


End file.
